


Walking The Line

by BrittleDame



Series: Shiratorizawa Thirst Chronicles [9]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Brat Taming Undertones, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking, Enemies to enemies that fuck, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hospitals, Insulting Each Other Is Not A Love Language, Mixed POV, Multiple Orgasms, Name-Calling, Post-Time Skip, Reader-Insert, Resident!Reader, Rough Sex, Slight Sado-Masochism, Swearing, Unprotected Sex, messy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:49:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29871483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrittleDame/pseuds/BrittleDame
Summary: You suffered six years of Shirabu’s misplaced hatred towards you, fluctuating between mocking compliments and the cold shoulder. Upon your final shift as a resident, it’s only then that you crack and finally confront him at the party afterwards - and somehow end up in his bed.
Relationships: Shirabu Kenjirou/Reader
Series: Shiratorizawa Thirst Chronicles [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856311
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	Walking The Line

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back with more hate sex with Shirabu because it is a very popular theme for him, not that I’m complaining.

Time is a funny phenomenon. Somehow it simultaneously exists as a human-designed construct and as an omniscient being with a paranoia for people watching it. As such, a group of tired residents crowd around the largest clock on the ward, counting down the minutes ticking down to seconds left of their last shift as residents. The already practicing doctors walk past with amused expressions at the tense air surrounding the group you’re a part of.

Watching with bated breath, the exhaustion of an early start and running around all day alleviates its choke-hold grip on your body as the second hand catches up with the minute hand pointing skywards, announcing the end of an era.

A small cheer goes up, conscious of the patients, and you can’t resist the upward tug of your lips as a friend pulls you into a hug and offers a quiet congratulations. The chief physician, content in watching from the sidelines lets you all bask in the excitement for a minute longer before stepping up and dispelling the noise with a single clap of her hands.

“Congratulations, class of 2022 you’ve all managed to not only graduate residency, but also excel each of my expectations,” her characteristically stern demeanour melts into one of fondness as her gaze flits between the crowd’s faces. “I’m incredibly proud of how hard each and every one of you have worked. If it means anything, I think you’ll all make incredible doctors.”

A sniffle rings out and your curiously sweeps the room to catch who the dewy-eyed person was, only to pause at the fawn-coloured eyes staring back at you. Under an oddly-angled fringe, Shirabu was already looking your way, expression unreadable. Confused, you offer a polite nod of acknowledgement, a silent congratulations. He cocks a brow and brushes you off, tuning into the rest of the chief’s farewell speech.

“And with that, I wish you all the best – but please don’t forget our teachings here! You carry our name and legacy with every patient you tend to.” With those solemn departing words, her painted lips curl into a proud smile as she shallowly bows.

Following her example, the rest of you bow deeply in return, intoning a loud, “Thank you!”

With that, the group breaks apart, some rushing out the doors to the break room for their locker, and others like yourself loitering around to exchange farewells.

“Hey!” A voice pipes up from behind. Turning, you find the ever smiling Aida, one half of the pair of residents that you see commonly interacting with Shirabu and the short-tempered NUM. “Are you heading off to the bar tonight for some celebratory drinks?”

You barely open your mouth before a familiar monotone voice speaks up.

“Of course she’s going, there’s no work involved.” Shirabu answers for you, voice flat as glass and yet still coming across as snide. That paired with his usual neutral expression had your features naturally tightening in response.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” You warmly respond, completely ignoring Shirabu’s interjection.

A blonde eyebrow ticks at your impertinence while Aida gives an awkward little laugh that had even you internally wincing. Damn, leave it to Shirabu to bring the mood down.

“Anyway,” you give a stilted laugh, offering Aida your hand, “it was a pleasure working with you, hopefully I’ll be able to talk to you more at the bar.”

Aida grins at that and shakes your hand. “Yeah, definitely!”

With the dirty-blonde girl still standing there, you didn’t want her to catch on about your animosity towards Shirabu, even though the side-part dick had no such reservations. So with great reluctance you extend a hand towards him with a stiff smile.

He fails to treat you in kind, barely giving you the common decency of looking you in the eye as he gives you the shortest handshake of your life, barely even touching you. Deciding it wouldn’t be professional to cause a scene and call him out on his petty bullshit, you bite your tongue and stride away from the two with fingers twitching at your side with the overwhelming need to flip him off.

After six years of suffering under his poorly concealed malice, you’ve grown thick skin – something you didn’t know whether to be thankful for. It had initially hurt, not knowing what sparked his ire towards you, then it faded into annoyance that you did well to hide for the sake of professionalism.

The two blondes share a look behind your back as you stalk away to a group of girls that you became close friends with a sour look plastered on your face. That earned a couple of questions you waved away with noncommittal answers before redirecting their attention to the gathering tonight, and the palpable excitement comes back as your peeved attitude is forgotten.

Wrapped up in saying goodbye to people that you’ve worked with for over half a decade, as well as offering gratitude to your saintly attendee, you’re not to proud to confess that there were tears welling in your eyes as you clear out your locker of your textbook horde and for the final time, walk through sterile halls and out of the bustling reception.

It hits you as your getting dressed for the gathering that you’ve finally have your license to practice and that this is the beginning of your working life. Yes, you’re finally a practicing medical professional, where countless nights spent pouring yourself over textbooks in secluded hospital rooms are traded in for the weekly task of reading up on newly released journal articles.

Still, overwhelming and slightly anxious are the primary emotions that war at the heavy realisation, but the promise of a good night out eases the knot inside your stomach.

Taking a deep breath in, you smooth down the front of your outfit as you slowly expel it along with all your worries. Tonight is reserved for celebration, tomorrow you can duel concerns for the future all while handling a hangover.

* * *

The hospital bar, conveniently situated down the block, has become well acquainted with you after both phenomenally good _and_ bad shifts. Opening the door, a wall of noise hits you and you struggle to remember a time you’ve last seen it this busy.

The brunette bartender catches your eye, and you wave at her in greeting, to which she holds up a familiar drink in response.

“It’s concerning how well you know me, Yui.” You say as you approach the bar top, still stunned by the crowd tonight.

She gives you a wink and passes the drink into your hands. “Aida gave me a heads up that you were coming. It was pure guessing of when you’d arrive, though.” She shrugs and accepts the money you pass her.

“Thank you!” You say as another patron waves her over. With an apologetic look, she leaves you alone with your thoughts and a drink strong-enough to hopefully prevent said thoughts from ruining your night.

“Hey! Over here!” Someone calls out, attracting your attention to a cluster of familiar faces, with a friendly Aida happily waving you over.

Wondering over to the large group, it was all too easy to slip into the conversation. Drunken joy joined the group’s gossiping, everyone happy at the chance to talk with people in your batch that they don’t usually get to because of shitty rotation schedules.

That one drink turned into two, which turned to three, and soon enough you find yourself at that happy medium stage, where the buzzing in your veins soothes the harsh edges of reality and makes everything seem much brighter and softer than they truly are.

The conversation flowed as easy as the alcohol, the happy chatter filling the establishment broken up with the odd loud round of laughter as someone brings up an embarrassing moment of a fellow co-worker. It was times like this, relaxed and somewhat giddy, that you didn't mind participating in the swapping of humorous anecdotes of the ward.

Throughout your re-telling of the time _someone_ \- a pointed glance to the bashful brunette across from you - had stuffed up a urinary catheter so bad that the cleaners were cleaning bodily fluids from the walls and floors for literal hours. Thankfully, you had worked through your lunch break, otherwise there would've been more mess for the poor staff to clean.

Rambunctious laughs sound out as you co-worker sinks into his seat. Grinning, you pause to take a drink, during which you happen to spot Shirabu giving you a dirty look for causing the noise disturbance. It wasn’t like you disrupting the peace, the ambiance sound of people chatting in the room masked your laughter and without actively listening in, one wouldn’t be annoyed by it. 

However, that single look that you’ve seen a hundred times was enough to dampen your mood. The others picked up on the sudden shift but mentioned nothing of it as you wrap up the story and half-heartedly listen to someone else share their first memories as a med student while your thoughts wonder away from you.

According to your fellow peers and superiors, Shirabu was the epitome of polite company – if a bit stiff. That same politeness was not extended to you. Whatever transgression you must have done to earn the lashings of his razor-sharp tongue from day dot was completely unknown to you. Frankly, you considered yourself a relatively patient person, but you’ve had enough.

You were above and beyond tired of his high school-like bullshit attitude.

 _Not once have I ever affronted him or accidentally offended him,_ you reason. Hell, you barely traded seven words with him in the beginning and yet he had taken to hating you with all the passion of an arch nemesis.

Considering all of this, it’s not surprising that that one nasty look was the final straw on the camel’s back, and you snap unlike never before.

That pleasant buzzing inside your skull overpowering the logical voice in the back of your mind saying _“leave it be”._ The pounding music exacerbates the issue, leaving you unable to contemplate how badly this could go, but with liquid courage – _stupidity_ , a small voice amends – coursing through your veins, your usual placid demeanour is long gone.

It was about time you confronted that asshole for the shit he’s given you for no apparent reason.

With the power of foresight, if you had known that moment how badly that plan had backfired, you might’ve thought twice about approaching him and would’ve just toughed through the glaring until you left.

Leaving your half-empty glass on the crowded tabletop, you didn't allow second thoughts to catch up to you as you march up to him, determined to sort out this shit even if it kills you.

Approaching Shirabu and a taller brunette you recognise as Rei, the guy you usually see floating around Shirabu along with Aida, you interrupt the quiet conversation, startling the two.

“Can we have a second?” You ask without waiting for an answer. Rei watches on with a mix of concern and bemused interest as you grasp a fistful of Shirabu’s shirt and drag him off to a secluded area, away from prying eyes and ears.

Stunned by your aggressiveness, Shirabu doesn’t struggle out of your hold, only making an indignant noise at the rough treatment once you were both tucked around a dark corner. The muted thumping of the bass pouring from the speakers was low enough to hear near-shouted words, but it overpowered your tone, and you wanted the snobby prick to receive your message loud and clear.

Plus, you didn’t want to cause a scene, even though you have every right to do so after his treatment. Unlike him, you were raised with the barest amount of human decency.

If your senses weren’t dulled and common sense knocked out cold, you would have caught the dark look that crossed his face, but you were more preoccupied with concocting an impromptu speech. It didn’t need to be anything fancy, all you needed is to portray to him just how big of an arrogant dick he’s been towards you and suss out _why_.

His eyes widen with shock as you press right against him, invading his personal space – a feat that not many dared to do.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He sneers and it took every fibre of your being to not slap the demeaning look off of his unfairly attractive face.

Seriously, though, no one should look that good with a side part.

“What the fuck is _your_ problem? You’ve had it out for me since day one. _I’ve had enough_.”

In any other situation, the smacked-looking expression he dons would’ve made you laugh, but right now it made the anger within you flare up at his gall of playing dumb.

Kenjirou was taken aback by two things right now. The first being that he’s never seen your pretty face screwed up into such a nasty expression, which made him admittedly a little hot under the collar. The second being that it took you nearly six years to finally confront him about his attitude. Although, it’s too little, too late.

The stunned look is replaced with a sneer, Kenjirou doesn’t bother to offer a single word for his defence.

Given his lack of response, you take that as permission to ream him, and not once does your angered gaze stray from his scowling face.

The words spilling from your mouth as you rant at him lose shape, fading into a piercing ring as he finds his mind wondering as his focus stays fixed on your face. Passively watching your hands dart about, he assumes to accentuate your point about him being a dick, which Kenjirou acknowledges, but it’s all for a reason.

No one else despised laziness or unearned praise more than Shirabu Kenjirou. Since he was young, he was raised with the philosophy that hard work earned rewards while the lazy get left behind in this fast-paced society. He regarded this as natural law, that was until you showed up, with a casual air and never once did he see you study in the shared breakrooms with the rest of his cohort.

“- and now you don’t even reserve the same basic human decency to even listen to me!” You bite out, vitriol layered thick enough to sting a lesser man.

Kenjirou stares back at you, wide-eyed, and it’s only then that the two of you notice how close your faces are. The space minuscule enough that he could smell the alcohol he’s watched you drink all night on your breath.

You snap out of it first, not backing down in the slightest. “Did you even hear a single word I said?”

Looking deeply into your scolding gaze, Kenjirou belatedly realises how beautiful you looked, even under the coloured fluorescent lighting and alcohol-induced flush. The next words out of his mouth slip out before he can help it, a reflex as his mind spirals as your eyes flick down to his mouth.

“I honestly couldn’t care less about what you say.”

Your face drops before scrunching back up, ready to verbally flay him alive for being the worst man you’ve had the displeasure of meeting. That was before Shirabu surges forward, removing the short distance left between.

And kisses you.

Standing there in shock, his lips felt surprisingly soft against your unresponsive ones. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was the long year without anyone to warm your bed, you kiss him back all while thinking _‘fuck it’._

The final year of medicine didn’t really permit the time to go out and seek out a partner and your hand can only do so much to sate the hunger. Well overdue for offloading that hunger was a great understatement, and if you had to offload with the guy that hated your guts, then so be it.

Feeling like you’ve officially lost all control over your facilities, your fingers tangle into soft copper-toned strands. The worst part of all is that you couldn’t really blame it on the alcohol, you knew your limits and you were nowhere close to them to justify making out with the slanted-fringe douche against the stairwell wall if some poor soul caught you both.

Breaking apart, Kenjirou mutters out a quiet but empathetic, _“Fuck.”_

With closed eyes, Kenjirou leans his head back with a pinched expression, hoping for the wall to swallow him and remove him from the humiliation of caving-in to you. Life is a bitch and Kenjirou knows better to fight against the hand he’s been dealt.

Kenjirou had always been warned there was a thin line between hatred and passion, a line that blurred in many places. Not even realising it, he had been walking that line since the day he met you, only just now conceding to himself that maybe – _just maybe_ – he had misinterpreted the strong feelings towards you as loathing rather than lust.

With a keen eye, you watch the usually neutral expression Shirabu sported waver and you, in all your unearned confidence, wanted to see those emotional barricades turn to ashes. So, like a reasonable person after kissing someone that made his dislike of you abundantly clear, you seize his mouth again. He doesn’t fight you, surprising you by settling warm, large hands on your waist as he pulls you tightly against him.

Grinding languidly against him, your internal temperature rapidly climbs until you break, split between wanting to headbutt him for making you so confused about your emotions or to fuck him right here and now. Evidently, you decided against both, seeing as public sex probably wouldn’t look good for your professional record.

“I am not fucking in a bar’s bathroom.” You say with conviction, not breaking eye contact as you draw back.

His jaw clenches and looks up to the ceiling. “Me either.” He replies after short deliberation.

Reaching an unspoken agreement, any meaningless niceties that might have conserved if Shirabu were any other man was left at the bar the very moment you hauled him out the door and into a taxi heading to your place. Shirabu seems to possess the same sentiment, keeping his distance in the car for the entire ride, bored look in place.

The only thing keeping you from breaking face and pinching him for _some_ kind of reaction is the knowledge of what was going to happen the second you closed the door behind you, which had barely even shut before he had you pressed against it, lips pressed against your throat.

Hands you’ve seen insert IV lines and conduct rib-breaking CPR delicately skim across the flesh of your stomach from where your shirt lifted, lifting it even further to expose your clothed chest. Shirabu hardly parts from you skin for long enough to rip the shirt over your head, before diving for your waiting mouth.

Small, breathy noises escape you as his skin catches against yours, thumbs scraping just below your bra as his tongue presses further into your mouth. Heat pooling southwards, you shove him away even though your senses demand to have him _closer_ and snatch up his hand to drag him off to the bedroom, uncaring about his opinion on the messy state it was left in from the battle of getting ready.

Shoving him onto the mattress, the momentary authority is stripped from you as he yanks you down with him and rolls on top to physically lord over you. He offers no apology to your miffed expression, only giving you a taunting raised eyebrow as he strips you of the shirt and bra without a comment.

Using one hand to pin your wrists to the headboard, the remaining free hand comes to massage your breast as his mouth attacks with its twin. You let out a particularly lewd moan after a sharp nip, hips bucking upwards, desperately seeking friction.

“Oh?” He says, blatantly amused. You hiss a curse when deft fingers softly pinch and roll a nipple between them. “I’m barely even touching you and here you are acting like a bitch in heat.”

“I wanna put you in your place so damn bad…” You mutter maliciously under your breath, assuming Shirabu would continue his wilful ignorance towards your words.

“Looks like we share the same idea. Too bad that you won’t get to see yours through.” The condescending tone causes a film of red to fill your vision. If it weren’t for his weight pressing down on your chest, you would’ve cracked your skull against his in retaliation.

Who knows, maybe a bit of blood might assuage the maelstrom gaining force inside your mind.

“Strip.” He demands and the steely edge in his voice leaves no room for argument.

Bitterly swallowing your pride, slowly you tug yourself free from his grip and kick off your pants. Ignoring him as he leaves the bed to strip his own clothes off, you hesitate when your hands hover over your panties.

 _Fuck it,_ you vindictively think as your hands rest on the mattress, _he can at least do the bare minimum and remove them himself if he wants to fuck me_.

The bed dips as he settles back on it, making his way up to you. As he slips into place hovering over you, it gives you the perfect window to glimpse down and the sight that meets you makes you angry.

You were hoping you could hang some shit on him for being inadequate in any way, fuck even a slight lean would suffice, but of course the rude fucker would be blessed with a picturesque dick. It looked more suited for a pornstar than a doctor.

“For being such a dick to me, I thought you would at least have a big one.” Shirabu glares at you in response. Both you and he knew that was a lie, flagrant enough that Shirabu let it slide in favour of ripping off your panties and running his long fingers through the fluid that started to collect there.

“You must be a prude to be this wet before I even touch you.” Your cheeks heat with anger at his words. You weren’t about to spill that it’s been a while, knowing him, the dick would hold that over you until your last breath.

“Don’t pat your back to hard, you might dislocate your shoulder.” You reply snidely and very nearly break your collected façade at the sensation of two fingers skirting against the rim of your entrance.

“I’m going to enjoy every scream you make with just my fingers.”

You go to make a snarky remark, only to be shut up by him slipping in two fingers without any lube, not that it was really needed with how wet you already were. You make a short squeal, not prepared for the delicious burn of the stretch, to which he laughs at.

“That’s it, princess. No words, only your moans.”

The pet name sets your teeth on edge, but the way he crosses his fingers as he languidly pumps them into you causes your need to curse at him shrivel and die under the rapidly growing need to rut against the palm of his hand.

With fingers possessing the dexterity of someone that produces the cleanest sutures on the ward, he twists and presses them perfectly inside of you. Staying true to his bastard personality, he doesn’t jeopardise it by making you cream from his fingers alone, instead he chooses to bring you infuriatingly close to orgasm, stopping the second the thighs bracketing his torso start to shake and your adamant silence is broken up by tiny gasps.

Immediately, you come regret letting those little signs show as he removes his fingers, giving them a disdainful glance at the wet noise it makes. You scowl up at him.

“Hands and knees.” He dispassionately commands, appearing for all the world _put out_ by the thought of fucking you – something that really pissed you off.

“Prick.” You seethe as you begin to twist onto your stomach, nonetheless.

You must’ve been taking too long according to Shirabu, who grabs your hips, hoisting them up and roughly parting your thighs, then sparing a hand to rest against the base of your cervical vertebrate, a silent reminder of who holds the power here.

“Bitch.” He fires back with considerably less hostility, more focused on coating himself liberally with your fluids.

Even knowing he couldn’t see it, you roll your eyes anyway. Pushing the annoyance aside, you tuck your chin to your chest to find his cock had disappeared, and startle as you feel him shallowly pressing the tip into your entrance like the asshole he is.

“Hurry it up, I don’t know about you, but takes me more than thirty seconds to get off.”

Slapping his dick against your slick hole, you jerk against his tight grip at the action in surprise.

“Beg for it.”

While you were incredulous at his smug request – _more like_ _demand_ – Kenjirou impassively stares down at you, still rubbing himself against your twitching hole, confident in the fact that you’ll give in sooner than later, judging by the twitching of your leg.

Torn between kicking him in his balls and grabbing him by the hips and forcing him to slam home, you choose the third, more fun, route.

Shirabu wanted to play games? Fine, you’d divulge him.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Your voice drips with feigned remorse. “Pretty please will you fuck me until I cum, or is that too much to ask?” You snark back.

Nimble fingers dance down your spine, eliciting a shiver, a momentary show in weakness you despised that he got to witness.

“I’m going to fuck you so good that you won’t be able to say anything except for my name, brat.” He promises, nudging his tip against your hole that easily suctioned around it.

“You can try,” you retort weakly, knowing the battle was already lost and that your pride laid dead at your feet as your hips rut back into his unyielding hold.

Kenjirou knew this as well, unable to fight the victorious grin on his face as he slides smoothly in, walls stretching around his girth, snug and perfect.

Cock stretching and filling you in ways that you’ve wanted for the longest time, he felt incredible inside of you. Had he been anyone else, you would’ve voiced this in a breathy tone to edge them closer to fucking you ruthlessly, but you were with Shirabu. You’d never tell him this, in fear that his head would explode if his ego got any bigger, and you weren’t in the mood to clean grey matter off your walls.

“Is that all you got?” You throw over your shoulder, never mind the fact that you could feel yourself beginning to drip down your thighs and had to remind yourself to swallow in order not to choke on your spit.

With the click of his tongue, Shirabu slams into you again with all the ferocity of a scorned ex. Your knees burn as you’re forcefully dragged up the bed, a matching sensation to your pussy at the friction from his long strokes. Letting loose a shaky breath into a pillow, the only saving grace sparing you from banging your head into the headboard, you note that Shirabu possesses a smidgen of human decency by pausing and readjusting his hold on your body to stop it from sliding forward as much.

With the stillness, you’re able to hear him interchanging carefully measured breaths for quick and shallow ones over the rushing of blood in your ears. You smile in self-satisfaction that you have just as much as an effect on the renowned ice prick as he does on you.

With Shirabu, expectations exist purely to be broken, demonstrated by him not immediately starting to pound into you again, instead choosing to leisurely grind his hips against your ass. As it stands, you’d be the worst liar if you had to say the action didn’t have your breath catching in your throat.

A hand softly sifts through your hair, surprising you in its possessive gentleness when only moments ago, they held you with a bruising strength. It twirls, tangles, and wraps your hair around it like a bandage, and you caught on a hair too late as he yanks your head back, forcing you to arch your back to alleviate the ceaseless pressure on your skull.

“Big words for someone that’s drooling,” he sneers.

Absently, you brush a thumb at the corner of your mouth and are surprised to see it come away wet. Maybe you weren’t being as diligent with composing yourself as you had thought.

“Hardly means anything, _doctor_. You of all people should know what someone bored of your shit looks like.”

He ignores the barb in favour for looking down his nose at you, disdain advertised like a fluorescent billboard. “I should’ve known you’d be a sloppy bitch.”

“You fucking–" You start, indignant at the accusation. You weren’t going to take that slander laying down, ignoring the irony of that statement with your current position.

Shirabu interrupts you by harshly grinding against you, easing more of his thick base into your abused hole and you gasp sharply, face lewdly twisting.

“Anything else you want to air before I fuck you senseless? Your taunts are getting a bit repetitive now.”

You grit your teeth, hoping to hide the breathy quality of your voice. “Other than the sad fact that you think that you’re going to fuck me senseless in the three strokes it’ll take for you to climax, no sir. You won’t hear a peep from me.”

Mockingly, you call him sir, not at all expecting him to like it. Instantly, you could feel the way he twitch inside you at the title and the devious smirk that makes its way across your face spelled danger for Shirabu.

Not that he cared.

Pulling even harder on your hair, you hiss as he forces your head closer to his, voice now dropping into a whisper.

“Don’t you dare finish until I say so.”

With those final words ringing with the same solemn promise as the toll of death bells, a short moan is ripped from you as his hips move back before rushing forward back into yours in the blink of an eye.

Any pretence that remains of this being anything more than fucking was completely forgotten as he starts pounding into you with the same level of intimacy of a jaunt with his hand.

Not that you minded in the slightest.

With each stroke, hitting deep and fast enough for breathing to become hard, Shirabu continuously yanks your head back far enough that you could make eye contact with him as he railed you from behind.

Drastically tightening around him with each tug of your hair, it served as a direct line to your pulsating walls. The pinpricks of pain adds to the pleasure and takes away your ability to comprehend the fact of how wet you had become, moans interrupting the slick noises of where your bodies meet.

Not breaking pace, Kenjirou takes note of the perfect arch of your spine, face turned to the side so he can watch with petty pleasure as your features contort obscenely as he drives his cock as far as humanly possibly inside of your aching cunt, relishing the way you sucked him back in for more every time.

“ _Shirabu_ – Shit! Oh god –!” You whine, punctuated by a high-pitched gasp, a sound that leaves him breathlessly smirking.

The flow of nonsensical words from your kiss-swollen mouth had his hips working overtime, in hopes to see you _break_. The thought of taming you has a certain… _je ne sais quoi_ about it. Turning your body into a fuck toy for him to take and take whatever he wants. The snide remarks swapped for delicious sounds, the scrunch of your nose in frustration replaced for pleasure… Having your pliable form under him like this lets him observe the way you’re getting off to him bruising your skin, battering your soaking pussy, with absolutely no regards to your well-being made him feel near god-like.

A familiar sensation grows in your gut, tightening with each passing second. Fisting the sheets in your sweaty hands, your hips start to rock back into his in earnest, to fulfill that deeply-seated need to fall apart.

“Please, please, please…” You chant mindlessly, the words coming out muffled from where your sweaty cheek pressed against the pillow and getting louder the closer you got.

Behind you, there’s a spike of vindictive pleasure within Kenjirou at your submissive pleas. The begging is surely the most intelligent words you’ve uttered all night. What kind of man would he be if he denied you a reward for finally reconciling your place in this dynamic.

Proceeding to suck a few marks into the side of your throat, Kenjirou spitefully ensures that they’re all visible above the collar and places one final thrust, simultaneously tugging you onto his member as he gives a single command.

“Cum for me.”

Even if you wanted to defy him, you had lost all will to do so, barely up to tell what was up from down as you’re forcefully shoved over the edge. The orgasm rolls through you as he pulls your thigh up high and repeatedly starts hitting a spot that has your vision fading black around the edges and nonsensical noises spill from your mouth.

Above your lax body, the strokes slow as Kenjirou assumes a languid pace while you slowly come down from your high, although it was less for your sake and more to heighten his own selfish pleasure. While you weakly twitch against the sheets, visibly overstimulated and yet not uttering a word of protest, Kenjirou is pissed to find himself getting close, and stops fucking you entirely before he spills.

He’d rather swallow used razor blades than cum before he could get you to do it again for a second time. He isn’t going to give you an inch to nail him with later on.

“I’m not through with you yet.” His deep voice, husky with exertion, sends a shiver down your spine.

Barely sparing you a moment to recover, a loud breath escapes from you as he briskly pulls out and spins you onto your back. _Unbelievable_ , you think to yourself as strong hands pull your hips up and your body thoughtlessly becomes submissive at the tugging of his hands that push your hips onto the pillow he places under them. A considerate thought from a man that wanted to see the tears gathering in your eyes to fall and paint your cheeks with translucent trails.

Still painfully hard, he rubs his slicked-up cock between your folds and that roiling heat from before returns again as you mindlessly grind against it, regardless of how frayed your nerves felt. Kenjirou recognised that there was no way that his sore pride would allow him to confess that he likes this position better, now able to clearly see your flushing face.

It was already hard enough to admit that maybe his feelings towards you wasn’t so much as resentment towards your studying habits (or lack thereof) but the lack of understanding of how he truly felt… And from the way his heart rate doubled at the sight of you right now, hair a mess and nails diffing into his forearms, he’d spare a guess it was sexual in nature.

“So eager for my cock even after creaming all over me.” He mocks, chuckling under his breath while expertly hiding his thoughts in turmoil. Words aside, this was probably the most genuine-sounding thing you’ve heard from him.

“So needy for a brat.”

You level him with your best impression of a stone-faced bitch. “You have absolutely no idea.”

Handsome features sank into a blank expression before contorting into a sneering grin. That single look alone should not have had an immediate effect of heat rushing through your body, but it does.

“You should be thanking me.” He whispers down to you, eyes dark with no empathy to be found. “For fucking you like the desperate little girl that you are.”

Indignation rips through you, hot and humiliating. You should be thanking him for that? Yes, maybe you should show your gratitude of how this egotistical bastard has illuminated that your standards have hit an all-time low.

Glaring up at him, you hiss out an insult. “ _Fuck you_.”

Eyelids dipping low, he makes a long considering noise with the faintest hint of a smile before he wipes the look off your face by impaling you with his cock. Rendering you speechless with the one move, he withdraws until the leaking tip, glistening with evidence of your orgasm, sits at your entrance before roughly pushing in again.

Fuck, you were barely capable of thought beyond loops of _‘fuck yes’_ , _‘please’_ , and _‘more, I want more’_ while he ruthlessly fucks into you with the sole focus on achieving his own end. Oversensitive, your glassy eyes roll back into your head as the new position gives him the perfect angle to repeatedly strike the sensitive patch in your walls that has you choking out a moan. Walls convulsing around him, inviting him to continue his thorough debauchery of your body.

The pressing of hips smears body fluids all over his skin and the messy turn is turning Kenjirou on more than he’d like.

“I should make you clean up your mess.” He groans into your ear. “Make you lick me clean of the mess you’ve made.”

High on the euphoria of another rapidly-growing high, the begging words tumble from your mouth unchecked.

“Yes, please! Anything – I’ll do anything just _please_ one more time.”

Smirking against your skin, Kenjirou brushes his nose against your carotid artery pulsing almost as frantically as your hole as acknowledgement of your plea.

“Good girl.”

His praise bypasses your cottony mind and straight to your cunt, walls wrapping around him so nicely giving a pleasant squeeze that has his own breath catching.

In Kenjirou’s mind’s eye, he could practically see the processes that allow you to grip him so well, what creates the viscous fluid seeping out of your hole and gathering at the base of his dick. But the look of your wrecked visage completely knocks the ever-overthinking part of his brain from its reigning throne and is usurped by pure animalistic drive.

Speeding up his pace, dropping the rhythmic thrusts in favour for filling your greedy hole to the brim. The thought has him lowly groaning, nearly dropping down to his elbows if it weren’t for you suddenly baring down on him, his own muscles locking up unexpectedly in response.

“Close again, already?” He rasps out, incredibly close himself but unable to miss the chance to tease. “Show me how dirty you can be.”

Delivering a slap to your ass, his words meant to mock shoved you once again into creaming around his cock, near yelling his name.

_“Shirabu!”_

Already close enough as it is, the way you constricted around Kenjirou with fierceness, and without knowing it, you forced him to finally accept defeat against his own instincts.

Teeth sink into his bottom lip as spills inside you, thick and uncomfortably warm, with a long and low moan of his own.

* * *

The drop after cumming twice in a short period was unforgiving. Having to pull yourself together piece by piece took an embarrassing long time, a testament that Shirabu always brought his best no matter the occasion.

You don’t bother to open your eyes as Shirabu extricates himself, not wanting to ruin the tenuous peaceful bliss. The whole-body encompassing soreness that accompanies a good fuck seizes you, a deep need satiated in a way that you’ve greatly missed.

Reality, though, is a cruel mistress and forces your hand when you feel something wet and fleshy smack against your cheek. Pissed, you glare up at a Shirabu who looked completely devoid of post-orgasm bliss. You’re not surprised to learn that not even sex can remove the stick up his ass.

“Lick.”

“What?” You reply dumbly, blinking up at him in question.

“You begged to clean me up and now I’m so kindly indulging you.” He states blandly, the lack of inflection paired with a small smirk threw your already scrambled mind for a loop.

About to bark an insult back, you pause to check yourself. Just before, you didn’t get the opportunity to catch the expression he made as he fucked you and now is the time to get some good blackmail.

You smugly bet that he will look ugly while getting sucked off.

“Fine,” you huff, grabbing his member with no regards to how sensitive he may be, and begin licking fluid-soaked velveteen flesh like a treat.

The bastard had the audacity to appear _relaxed_ as you gave soft licks and sucks to the shaft pulsing in your hand. Soon enough, you ended up indulging a spiteful part of you that demanded to see how’d he react to you being more rough.

Scraping your teeth over a prominent vein had his hands immediately flying to your head, fingers gripping at your hair once again and giving you a wordless warning of _‘don’t you dare’_.

Inwardly rolling your eyes, with a final lick, your eyes flit up to catch his intent gaze. Never the one to let the opportunity slip, wrapping your mouth around the tip and half-way down the shaft in one swift move. Giving him a long suck that has the man above you tipping his head back with a pinched expression.

“You bitch.” He grunts out, panting once again.

Pulling away with a satisfied look, his softening dick is already becoming hard again under your ministrations, but you ignore it anyway in favour for laying back on the mattress.

“Feel free to leave whenever.” The not-so-subtle dismissal was tossed at him and you receive an eye roll for it.

“Gladly.” Shirabu proceeds to climb off the bed, slowly pulling back in his clothes, and carefully tucks in his erection in place. Rolling onto your stomach, you admire the lines of muscles flexing along his biceps and back, while also taking note of the aches in your body that will worsen over the night.

Dressed, now more noticeably rumpled, he gives you a short nod before walking towards the door. You stop him dead with a few words.

“Oh, before you leave, I overheard that you’ve been accepted to work at the Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital?”

Confusion flickers over his features at your knowledge of his transfer and the timing of bring it up. “Yeah, I got a call last week.”

You serenely smile up at him. “Me too, actually. Can’t wait to work with you for another few years. Take care of me this time, yeah?”

An unreadable mask fits over his face, although the silence isn’t as heavy as it could’ve been. You relish the way his eyes reflect the five stages of grief all at once.

Shirabu gives a frustrated click of his tongue and a short laugh slips from your lips as he walks out of the apartment with a promise tossed over his shoulder.

“This changes nothing.”

“Wouldn’t want it to!” You shout after him, only for the slamming of your front door to answer your sentiment.

The future was never set in stone and yet you are convicted that while he said nothing will change, your relationship with him is irrevocably complicated after tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it weird to say that I missed writing Shirabu degradation? Probably but I don’t care at this point ahaha
> 
> I literally started a new Semi wip this week on top of the literal pile of fics I’ve already started… I have a serious problem


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